Banglen-Yp gently lowered the hands into the water, allowing the little bundle to decide whether it was something likeable or not.

Evidently there was no dislike to be found, so she lowered the hands some more and began to wash her little rescuee.

And so it was that the odd blonde and her protégé enjoyed their first bath together, with the former still wearing her full outfit and the latter even trying to swim around in the cramped bath.

 

It takes quite a bit of persuading, all natural, none of it forced Meredith was proud to admit, but she was finally able to break from the Brintizzi and head towards the east gate alone.

As Ahmad bounds away, James begins to wonder whether he sould not have been so hasty with the food.  Fortunately, Ahmad soon settles into stride and the ride becomes effortlessly smooth and breathtakingly fast.  James is glad the panther knows the way, because any attempt to steer would be futile.

James glances across briefly, "I had thought we might be able to match your speed Jonnee, but I swear you just get faster.  You realise you're going to have to run laps around the other panthers now or Ahmad will never live it down."

The wind of their passage whips the words from his mouth almost before they are spoken and James turns back to see the portal rapidly approaching.  He leans forward a little without thinking about it, anticipating.

Cyan casts a last look behind her at Trista, currently occupied with Dorian, and shoots a single glance at Berd.  The drake pauses in his greedy consumption, and turns to stare her way with eyes growing brighter by the heartbeat.  Cyan nods once, offers a wobbly smile, and heads for the baths.

Berd seems comfortable.  Oddly enough, she feels no jealousy at the sight of him so relaxed on another's shoulder.  It doesn't change anything about what he feels for her, Cyan knows; she might have thought differently before.

Strange.  Perhaps she is growing up, a touch.

Her stomach growls, and something sparkles as it zips past her face to hover in the air.  A small fairie, somehow holding an apple and an orange, one under each arm.  His face is a comical picture of exhaustion, and Cyan snatches the fruit as quickly as she can.  He bobs his head in thanks, and returns to where the female sprite labours under the weight of Berd's plate...now only half as heavy.  Cyan crunches into the apple thoughtfully as she continues to the room of baths.

Jonney Kay and his brintizzi.

Morgan and his panthers.

The unlikely trio of Banglen-Yp, the Chaoslord, and now something in a blanket.

Trista, with Berd.

James off to find this Meredith.

Aaron and Dorian.

She rubs her head.  So much to take in.  So much for which she must answer.  Guilt rises again, and she presses it down before it swamps her.  Too much guilt, and she may never rise above it again, lost in an endless cycle of self-pity.  Enough of that.  If she is to atone for her deeds, best she get about doing so rather than weeping and wailing.

The armored woman steps into the room of the baths, and studies the sole occupant - Banglen-Yp.  Well, not precisely sole - something is in the bath with her (is she really fully clothed?).  Cyan picks at the buckles of the armor and stares, trying to make out through the steam what it might be.  Then the first piece of armor comes off, and suddenly a burning desire to be free races through her.

Her finger shake as she tugs at each buckle, instincts forcing her to pile the armor neatly rather than throw it across the room.  She tears at the pieces, unhooking, freeing, and pulling them away from each other with frantic haste.  A small, high-pitched whine of raw desperation starts in the back of her throat as she nears the last few pieces - off they come, and she jerks the padding over her head, pulling it away from her body.  It stinks of sweat and blood - hardly surprising.  For a long moment she stands thus, breathing in deeply, clad only in her shift, and then Cyan slowly removes the rest of her clothing.
Her body is pale, and there are marks where the armor has worn into it over a long time.  She has obviously worn it much of the last year (certainly not to sleep, of course!).

She still feels filthy.  Perhaps the bath will fix that.

The red-haired bard moves to the edge of the bath* and slowly slides in, closing her eyes at the sudden shock of pain, as hot water slides over raw skin.  Behind her, Left and Right rise from the pile of armor and consider the bath.

+ WE MIGHT AGITATE THE WATER.  WHAT DO YOU THINK? +

+ I TRY NOT TO THINK OF SUCH THINGS.  BEST TO SIPMLY LEAVE BE FOR NOW, I WOULD GUESS. +

Cyan's fingers absently peel the orange as she studies Banglen-Yp and her curious finding.  "My apologies, Banglen-Yp," she eventually says, struggling over the name.  Where does one put the sir/lady?  "What is it you have there?"

*Don't know if the baths are communcal....

 

As the Daughter of Berd entered, Banglen-Yp looked up with a smile and waved happily.  Noticing that the woman seemed to be looking rather intently at her, or her new little friend, Banglen-Yp looked back at the woman began to lose the shell around her.


                                        <sub>Removable.

                                                                                Seperate.

                                                            Oops.</sub>


It was as if she was fascinated by something as she almost stared back even as the woman sat down in the bath.

She glanced down at herself as the woman spoke to her and then looked up with a smile again.

She held out the bundle, or at least what had been in it, and as she did her clothing seemed to vanish, as if suddenly melting away - it was hard to tell in the water, after all.

Her little friend was there, looking soaking wet and ever so happy as it blinked and tried to focus on the newcomer in the bath.  It let out a meek but happy little noise.

•• I • res•cued • him •• He • was • trap•ped ••

A happy statement, followed by a slightly confused look.

•• Why • a•po•lo•gise ••

That was a confused sounding question.

 

Roman warns the attendants that nobody should touch his things "I will not answer for the consequences" he adds to give an impression of danger.

In the bath room he undresses slowly and slips into the warm water.  More for relaxation than a need for cleansing.  His elemental form has that advantage.

A bath, then sleep.  Let the morning take care of itself

Tahirah stops in front of the boy, looking down.  "To be lost, there must be someplace one ought to be," she replies.  One hand disappears into her robe, leaving a sleeve to hang empty for a moment, and then reemerges with three small copper bits.

"Take me there, then."

Danny holds out a hand and accepts the coins, seemingly without seeing them.  And then they vanish, just as quickly and easily as Tahirah had made them appear.  "I knows some magic too, yer see.  Down in the Trade Quarter, it pays not ter be seed wif scratch in yer 'and." a pause, and his grin develops a somewhat nervous-looking edge, "S'pose I'll never see the Trade Ward no more.  Pity, I 'ad some good stuff 'idden away there.  Ah well, easy comin' is easy goin', as they says, an' I can al'ays find more."

His eyes lock on Tahirah's face then, narrowing as he studies her within the shadows of her hood.  "Yer right.  Ol' Danny knows jus' what yer lookin' fer.  This way, Ladyship."


"What can I say?  Living with the brints means I get a good workout every day." Jonnee answers, "Last thing I want is for them to think I'm slowing down." In reality, the panther probably has an advantage over him, he knows.  Ahmad can probably keep up this pace far longer than he can.

They run.  The forest continues to grow darker around them, and the animal sounds start to sound more threatening... and then Jonnee skids to a halt, his boots gouging deep furrows in the leaf litter.  "Smoke!" he says, sniffing the air.  "Must be getting close."


In the converted audience chamber, with its circle of bathtubs, Cyan becomes acquainted with the somewhat confusing (and possibly confused) Banglen-Yp.  For the moment, apart from the female servants moving barefooted and silent about the room, Banglen-Yp's mysterious companion, and the two Archons, they have the room to themselves.

That will surely change soon.


Across the hall, Roman too bathes.  He is also alone currently, and though there are servants in the room, they give no reaction to his presence, save to provide more hot water on request, and to obey his instructions regarding his belongings.


Danny leads Tahirah through the makeshift camp, to where an old woman sits beside a large iron pot, suspended above a small fire.  "Gran, give 'er Ladyship some o' yer soup.  An' yer won't be chargin' fer it neither... if'n it weren't fer 'er, we'd never've found our ways 'ere."

A cheap tin mug , battered and dented, is used to scoop out some of the thin soup, which consists mostly of water, and chopped vegetables.  Then the mug is handed to Danny, who passes it, in turn, to Tahirah.  "There yer goes, Ladyship.  'fraid it ain't much, but yer looks like yer needs ter get summat down yer neck."

A coin appears, briefly, in his hand, and goes to the crone, in exchange for a hunk of bread, which he also passes to Tahirah.  "Once yer's 'ad that, I's got summat ter show yer."


The forest thins out, becoming the familiar cleared area, with its sharpened tree stumps.  James directs Ahmad to the road, which will provide a clearer route to the great fortress.

The city itseld stands, shrouded in smoke, with the upper levels still burning.  As they approach, they can hear the occasional rumble of falling stone.

And then they see her...  Meredith stands in the broken gate, flanked by brintizzi.

A rescue.  A small thing in Banglen-Yp's arms, but an important one.  All lives were important.  "Good of you to do so," Cyan whispers.  The armor is shed, and she moves to a nearby bath.  "Too much death in that place.  Too much to come, with the world torn as it was."  It's heartening to see that one more being has survived, and will likely grow to have a fine life.

A mark in favour of this woman she has so recently met.

Cyan steps into the bath, and the hot water burns at the chafe-marks on her legs.  She studies herself for a moment - should there not be scars?  No.  The Seraphim did their work well.  Cyan gasps once, as hot water contacts a bloodied scrape, then slides down to immerse herself.  When she finally rises from the water, she considers the question.

"The apology was a matter of manners - you were engrossed in what might have been a private moment, and I could have been disturbing.  Politeness costs nothing," she finishes absently, and closes her eyes for a moment before running fingers through her soaked, sticky hair.  She must look horrifying.  Spirits above...it's a wonder Aaron and Dorian did not simply run screaming.  Rueful amusement sparkles in her amethyst eyes, but then they grow more serious.  The situation is comedic in the ancient sense of the word, which has nothing to do with belly-laughs or pratfalls.

She scrapes at her hair with fingertips, finds the soap.  One step at a time.  Cleanse the body.  Then the mind.  Then the spirit.

On a nearby bench, shadows and light twist and shape themselves into a neat pile of clothing, startling Left and Right into sudden, suspicious movement.  They orbit the clothes for a brief instant, obviously considering reducing them to tatters, then move back to hover over the General's armor.

Meredith notices them immediately. They move silently through the tattered city and stay out of sight, humoring her request to go alone, but their minds, their thoughts give them away. She does not consider asking them to leave. She understands the culture enough to know that they would not listen anyways and she does not wish to waste her time. Not when she had somewhere to be. Her booted feet move faster without her realizng it, but when they reach the gate she pauses.

She peers into the portal, still staying some distance from it. The Brintizzi who had been following her fan around her, ready to attack should something unsavory pass through the barrier. Meredith turns her head and speaks to the Brintizzi nearest her for a moment. When she turns her head back they are there. Jonnee, a massive black feline, and James. James. Meredith's breath catches in her throat at the sight of him, astride the feline. An interesting mount indeed!

Meredith waits on the other side of the portal. She had been looking forward to this moment for so long and now that it was here Meredith found herself almost frozen. She was like a deer in headlights, waiting for something to move before she burst into motion. Still she can't keep the beaming, beautiful smile from her face, well the left half of her face. The right half of her face has 4 stitches running across her cheekbone and the area around the cut... her cheek and under her eye, is swollen and darkened by bruises.

The changes felt by her the touch of her mind are evident in her appearance as well. Her hair is pulled from her face and twisted into a braid that swings across her back. Her head is held high and her skin, once a milky white, has picked up a slight tan. She is still small and slender, but has put on a few much needed pounds and she no longer hides in the folds of the oversized cloak. The dress she wears is a far cry from the thin, linen shift. An unsure, lost girl left and a confident serene woman returned.

In short, it appeared as if Meredith has grown up.

With all seen to, or nearly so, Morgan quit the table, checking the directions to the baths. Wine, women, and.... how did that saying go?  War?  Morbid, it didn't fit. Song?  Most like.  Anyhaps, he'd (over)sampled the first, and heard the last, but he stood no chance of the the middle until he cleaned up a bit. Leareth followed, hoping they had running water. The design always made the floor much more comfortable, and he had the feeling he'd be napping there for a while.

Ahmad, outpaced by a human, agreed with James. Outpaced by a human, he'd be hearing more kitten comments for weeks! Perhaps he might be forgiven being slow to notice the smoke, thinking of their jests. At least he managed to stop smoothly enough when Jonnee did.


Elsewhere, the rest of 13th Royal Cavalry made a comfortable pile of themselves, telling stories and waiting for Amalie to get back with the swiped fruit basket. They could hunt food on their own, since these people were likely to run short soon. But if the hosts were going to put oranges out on the table, they were getting a share.

 

Banglen-Yp smiled but shook her head.

•• Like • I • did • in • the • bat•tle • I • choose • not • to • kill •• Sav•ing • lives • be•cause • I • can ••

A simple statement and then she let her new little friend swim as he wished in the tub, offering him sanctuary in the form of a shoulder in case he so desired.

•• Life • will • end • at • some • point • so • why • has•ten • it ••

Another statement, in part question, and then a bright smile at Cyan.  The next moment her head tilted to the side and she appeared to ponder for a moment.

•• Bath • is • nice •• You • soon • will • be • clean •• Like • my • friend • here ••

She lifted up the little critter, soaking wet but clearly happy beyond description.  A strange little one, a bit like his rescuer.  She looked at him, then Cyan and then him again.

•• I • must • learn • his • lan•gu•age ••

She sounded as cheerful as her wet little looked when she said that.  Then she looked a little sad and spoke solemnly.

•• I • wish • they • had • rub•ber • ducks ••

 

James guides Ahmad towards the portal without hesitation.  Once through, he casts his eyes about, but only till he catches sight of Meredith.

"That's her." He speaks quietly to Ahmad and a pat on the shoulder urges the panther to pull up.  He vaults from the saddle as soon as it is safe to do so and strides across the rublle strewn chamber towards Meredith.

She has changed.  Have the vagaries of time amongst the Myriad Worlds been playing tricks once again?  The hair, the tan, the clothes, even her stance and attitude.  James too looks different, although not to the same degree.  His clothing is a drab grey-brown of stone dust, the old shades of black and white barely distinguishable.  James has not stopped to clean, so his face and hands look little better, a motley of streaked grime where he has wiped at sweat.  Here and there a tattered flap of cloth hangs loose and as often as not there is a matching cut beneath, but true to his word none look serious.

To James' eyes the 'new' Meredith looks good, better than that she looks beautiful.  James catches himself smiling broadly in an unconscious response to Meredith's beaming smile.  He opens his arms wide to catch her up into a hug.

"Meredith, it's good to see you!  So good."

Meredith stays frozen in place as the large cat passed through the portal and then James... yes it truly was him, was there in front of her, smiling just as happily as she was. The sight of him, this close, it finally triggers that this time it was real.

She practically throws herself into his embrace and hugs him tightly.

Yes, he was dirty... sure he smelled of sweat and battle, but he was there.

She realizes that he had not taken the time to clean up, which meant that he probably came out here soon after the conclusion of the battle to meet with her. She is touched deeply by this, the emotion sticking in her throat and keeping her from replying. All she can do is hug him tighter, undetered by the dust that is now smeared across her face and clothing.

She gets a few quiet words out, but they are muffled and untelligible as she speaks into his side. Meredith tilts her head up to look up and meet his eyes, but does not remove her arms from around him. Unspilled tears swim in her eyes and the beaming smile softens.

"James... I..." she falters, and laughs as the tears break free and flow down her face "Yes, it is good to see you again. I have missed you dearly" she confesses before hugging him again. She speaks into his side again, but this time her mind echoes the words so they are not lost Thank you... thank you

Left and Rights' earlier revelation regarding their position made Cyan a touch nervous.  It was true - they held loyalty to Harbonah.  But how loyal would they remain under a death sentence?  Not very, she suspected.  Not very loyal at all.  They might have changed, ever so slightly, but they were danioti still.  They wished to live, as well as serve.  They could not do both with Harbonah, but they could with her.

They might fulfill the letter of their agreement with Harbonah by fulfilling the spirit with her.

Considerations for another time - something she needed to discuss with Dorian.  His mind worked best along these lines.

Interesting thoughts from Banglen-Yp, and things Cyan had often considered.  She avoided battles as best she could...well, she had, in the past.  She stared at one hand, flexing it slowly.  Too easy to kill.  Always.  And killing was wrong.

Before, she had firmly believed that to win this war was to force a change upon the Archons.  Killing them was not the answer.  And now?  What does she truly believe inside?

...fire and agony in the darkness...blades cut and slash, and her blood spills upon the floor...the burning thoughts penetrate her mind, stab deeply to wound her spirit, slash at what makes Cyan herself...over and over again, remaking her in the forge of flame and wound....

And now?

She still believes the same.  Cyan closes her emerald eyes on her tears of relief.

Harbonah...you tried.  And you failed.

"I will be clean in body," she manages in a choked voice.  "I wish I could be as innocent as your friend.  As I once was."  Cyan lets out a shuddering sigh, and her tone steadies, strengthens.  "I will never be so again, but I will be clean in spirit."  Another small smile for the other woman.  "If you can learn his language, I would be impressed...though, you are a shape-shifter, are you not?"

She wonders about that.  Could it be possible for a shifter to learn the language of beasts?  How impressive a talent they have!  To take the form of another creature...strong magic, indeed.

She sinks beneath water, scrubs blood and tears from her face, then surfaces for a breath.

 

Nodding, Banglen-Yp smiled at her little friend as she lifted him up to look at him, with him looking right back through eyes that blinked as the water ran all over.

•• He • is • like • me •• Learn•ing •• Search•ing •• New ••

Then she frowned a little and shook her head, lowering her little rescuee again.

•• Shape••shifter •• No ••

A question aimed at none followed by a clear statement and then some thoughtful expressions, in turn followed by a big smile and a shrug.

•• No • shape • just • Bang•len••Yp ••

A concrete statement, spoken with conviction.  Then a short pause as Cyan goes underwater before speaking again.

•• In•no•cence • die •• Things • learnt • can • not • be • un•learnt •• Such • is • the • na•ture • of • all • things •• What • you • do • with • this • know•ledge • is • up • to • you ••

A strangely coherent statement from the odd blonde who sat in her bath playing with her new little friend and talking to the daughter of a little dragon.

•• No • mat•ter • what • I • am • I • am • Bang•len••Yp ••

An almost cheerful statement, followed by a giggle and a dazzling smile as she looked straight at Cyan.

 

Jonnee studies Meredith carefully.  While he hardly knows the girl, he can tell that there is something different about her.  He waits quietly, standing to one side, until she finishes talking to James.

The brintixxi are less patient than he is, and try to muscle in on his waiting time, so he gives them some jobs to do, mostly preparations to move out of here; organising who will carry the new weapons, checking that the injured are fit to travel, finding supplies in the ruined city...

Unfortunately there are more brintizzi in the gateway than he can find jobs for, so eventually he is forced to endure their reports, recommendations, and requests.  One request, though, he refuses... "I'll come away when I'm ready, Vsshtt'ach.  Right now, I'm busy.  Go check we have enough food for the journey home, then double the amount.  Stuff that won't go bad too easy."

And so he waits for Meredith.

Trista remains at the table as others leave, keeping Berd company. She’s unwilling to disturb the little dragon as he takes in great quantities of food and spills almost as much from her shoulder. She picks at her food, almost too tired to eat, and ponders where life is bringing her.

Soon though, almost abruptly, the plate and faeries evaporate. Apparently, Berd has finished. "Looks like you're satisfied. Are you ready to head off to sleep or the baths?"

Where exactly do dragons bathe?
This message was last edited by the player at 16:15, Mon 05 Feb 2007.

"You're welcome.  James speaks quietly and the words don't carry far.  He sounds a little bemused.  In truth, he's not really sure what Meredith is thankful for, but now is perhaps not the time for that discussion.

He lingers a moment, enjoying the embrace, then gently disengages.  He takes Meredith's hands in his own as he steps back and looks her up and down.

James look is not appraising, it seems more as if he is committing her to memory.  "You look well.  With one little exception."  One hand rises to gently brush underneath the cut on Meredith's cheek.  His eyes drop, embarrassed by the intensity of his feelings.  "Actually, you look...beautiful.  The hair, the clothes.  They suit you."

Abruptly, James switches topics.  "You've already met Jonnee, I recall.  This is Ahmad."  James introduces the panther, "Ahmad, this is Meredith.  I don't speak cat, but I'm pretty sure Ahmad's as intelligent as you or I.  As me, anyway."

"We should be getting back.  I don't know about you, but I could use a bath and some more food."

 Dorian rises. Instinctively, he reaches to pull his cloak closer around him, but... the cloak is gone. He left it with Cyan earlier. He finds himself feeling vulnerable without it, for a moment. He hadn't conveyed the importance of the cloak to Cyan. He can only hope she remembers where she got it. It would be difficult to replace... again.

"You are welcome," he says, remembering the formality. Such simple phrases were not beyond his vocabulary, but rarely did he mean them.

It had been a long day. So many things had happened. So many things had changed this day. As a matter of discipline, he would normally prepare spells first, and then sleep. That was even truer with his spells depleted. Yet, he yearned for sleep, and it would take so much time to prepare new spells. Sleep seemed to tug at his eyes and clothes, trying to drag him towards a bed. He would not do so, though. If there were trouble in the night, he would be prepared. It was a long day; but it wasn't over.

He took the stairs slowly, as if ten times their number were before him. At the top, he paused, looking towards the baths. Yes, he would bathe. He could work on spells while he bathed. It would, perhaps keep him awake for a time.

At the top, he paused, looking in the opposite direction of the men's baths. She was okay. She needed nothing. Berd would provide anything she might require.

With his head a little lower, he turned towards where the men's baths had been set up.

Tahirah hesitates only long enough to give a polite bow to the woman.  The boy was right; she hadn't eaten in quite a while.  Soaking much of the broth into the bread, she eats quietly, and finds her mind settling somewhat.

Time to think.  She's not sure she's quite ready for that yet, but time comes as it will.  The Lords have gone; she will need to find a new place for herself.  Like everyone around her, she had lost almost everything...and yet so little, really.  It occurs to her that she will need to choose soon.  If she stays, then as the only thing left associated with the Lords, she will take a place of leadership, and the people will soon enough depend on her.  If she leaves, they will find others among themselves, and of course the Brothers, to follow.  A matter of days, at the most, to decide which course is for her...but days will be enough.

She sets an empty mug beside the woman, with a simple, "Thank you."  Then she turns back to the boy.  "And you.  I am ready."

Cyan nods, slowly, disturbed by Banglen-Yp's assertation that she is not one who changes shape.  Strange - perhaps Cyan had been mistaken before.  Or perhaps she means that Banglen-Yp has not solid shape at all?  Shocking prospect, but not frightening.  Not given the things she has already seen, though that would rank as one of the stranger ones.

"I already know what to do with my knowledge," she whispers.  "Hard-come-by, but yet it pushes me further.  Unfair that so many suffered that I should come to this place, though."  But the universe itself is not a fair place - this, Cyan knows.  To believe it so is dangerous.  "I think I know what to do," she amends, still uncertain.  She offers the beautiful woman a weak smile in return for her own, and slowly nods her head.

"It is good," she says, slowly rising from the bath, shedding water, "that you can say so about yourself."  Few could - this much, Cyan has seen over and over again, in herself as well as others.  Aaron...much of the time, he does not know himself, or so he said.  James at times seems lost.  Dorian is a man conflicted, with questions regarding his own identity.

Jonnee Kay...now he knows himself.  A simple life holds its own rewards.

+ WE KNOW OURSELVES +  Right sounds not a little bit smug.

+ ...FOR THE MOST PART +   Left's voice holds a certain concern in it.  But then, Cyan's fragment-memories from the last year inform her Left has always been more thoughtful, as much as a danioti can be.

"I do not," she replies to Banglen-Yp's comments, to the archons' assertions.  "Not yet."  She begins to towel off, feeling oddly hollow inside.  Something is missing.  "But I will," she vows quietly, pausing for a moment.  I will know who I am.  I am free, now, and alive.  Moving to the pile of clothing, she sorts through it, finds a shirt.  Long, silk, bright and sharp in colour.  Berd's work, no doubt, along with the black trousers.  Underthings first, of course, then the shirt.  Trousers, a belt, and then finally the tall boots.

Everything fits perfectly, of course.  Berd knows her measurements.

Her pack, gone.  Only the armor, and a cloak.  Dorian's.  She picks it up, rubs it between her fingers, then throws it over her shoulders.  The armor she begins to pile together.  "I am sorry to leave so hastily.  I require food, and..."  A helpless gesture follows.  "Perhaps I shall see you down where we eat?"

Meredith looks down as the embrace comes to a regrettable and necessary end. She notices the bright red skin of James' hands and charred shirt sleeves and she frowns slightly. Thus distracted, she did not quite catch his first words and looks up to query him about the odd injury only to be stopped by his hand against her cheek.

She freezes, fear widening her eyes for the split second it takes rational thought to override instinct. Meredith relaxes almost as soon as she tenses, and is surprised by how gentle James' touch is. Her cheeks begin to redden, and the blush deepens, burning red against her tanned skin when he compliments her. Unsure of what to say, Meredith looks down, fighting a small smile while her heart trills... beautiful.

She goes with the subject change, grateful for the time to get a hold of herself and to think of something to say. "Yes, I remember Jonnee" she says with a smile to the other man. She nods her head to him "It is good to see you again"

She then takes a few steps towards Ahmad, taking in the panther's thick muscles, smooth black fur, and intelligent, feline eyes. She pauses for a few moments and then turns back to James, wearing an impish smile. "Tell me James... does this new Charyk have a healing staff? You are not quite off the hook for those "little cuts and bruises" and I can tend to them after you have had a chance to clean up and eat if you would like. I picked up a few tricks from the healers of the Army of the End of Time and need a someone to practi... I mean I would not want to forget them out of disuse" she says with a joking laugh.

 

•• I • am • Bang•len••Yp •• On•ly • re•mains • to • learn • who • Bang•len••Yp • is ••

A statement that started out happy and ended a bit sad.  Then she looked with interest as the other woman got out of the bath and toweled herself off, moved over to the clothing and began to put them on.  Different clothing.

She too stood up, soaking wet and picked up the towel.  After Roman she knew what to do with it, at least, and the woman had did the same.

Soon she was all dry and she began to rub her newly rescued little friend, rubbing the towel over it and getting what seemed like rather cheerful noises in return.  By the time she had finished she stood there wearing what looked like pretty much the average outfit that the people of both the old and new Charyk were wearing - it simply appeared to fade into being there.  Even her hair seemed to shift into a proper hairdo for the time and place they were in.

•• Yes • food ••

She fired  a big smile at Cyan and nodded eagerly, having gotten ready as the other woman picked out what to wear and gotten into it.

•• Do • you • wish • sol•i•tude • or • can • we • come • a•long ••

A definite question as Banglen-Yp placed her little friend in the hook of her arm again in a fresh towel-like item.  The two of them looked at Cyan as if they both waited for an answer, the latter peeking up with big curious eyes.

 

Roman looks up as Dorian enters, noting the downcast gaze.  "You should be happier, sorceror.  We won a victory today.  Your woman was freed from the Seraphim as you wanted.  What more could you reasonably hope for ?"